Irvine: The story of a maverick
by Mercenary Pen
Summary: It's about time that someone told Irvine's back story- all the ups and downs that he went through before he met Van Flyheit. Hope y'all enjoy- R&R. PG-13 due to such things as cold-blooded killing.
1. Default Chapter

Irvine: The story of a Maverick.

Chapter 1: Painful Beginnings

Irvine was now in his late thirties and retiring after a decade and a half of service in the Guardian Force. Later today would be the ceremony in which he would be presented with the Imperial Star and the Helic Cross, medals that would represent his years in service of both governments, becoming the first mercenary to ever win both.

He looked back fondly on his years as a zoid pilot- sure, it hadn't always been plain sailing, there'd been so many ups and downs throughout his career that at one point he'd stopped noticing them...but that had been before he'd met Van, now his closest friend and comrade, and perhaps the one person living who could outfight him in a zoid battle.

He remembered it like it had been only yesterday, his enthusiasm as he joined up to serve in the Republican army only two weeks after his sixteenth birthday...

Flashback

He rounded the corner, suddenly the recruitment office was before him and a grin shone on his as yet unweathered face. He walked straight inside, a spring in his step, no, more than one spring in his step if that were possible, as he walked straight to the reception desk.

"And how can I help you?" asked the bespectacled army clerk who sat at the desk, more time on his hands than was good for him it seemed as he peered up from his crossword.

"I'd like to join the army, sir," came the reply of the youthful Irvine, tinged with barely concealed enthusiasm.

"And why do you want to join the army?" came the clerk's response.

"I want to pilot a zoid," was Irvine's truthful and exuberant reply.

End Flashback

He had then been shepherded through to the office of the Lieutenant who was in charge of this recruiting office, where he was interviewed, given forms to fill in, and put through various examinations including a full medical, fitness exams, hand-eye coordination tests, and too many others to describe, all the while the Lieutenant and his staff watched, surprise on their faces as he pulled through test after test, scarcely batting an eye as they forced him to the limits of his endurance, and occasionally beyond.

Soon after, he was transferred to an army training facility on the foothills of Mount Lupin, where his zoid training began. Very soon, under the experienced eye of his drill sergeant, he was practising the use of an old, battered Command Wolf, whose body was covered in spots of rust, and whose cockpit canopy was cracked in places, whose weapons had been removed and which was generally in a bad condition.

Irvine, however, did not get on at all well with the commander of the training facility, Captain Jonah Marshall, who was the sort of man that spends as little of his budget as possible on actually doing his job, as Irvine was soon to discover.

Yes, that night, while Irvine was in the facility's zoid hangar, performing a little maintenance on the training Command Wolf, the Captain ordered an early lights out, two hours before the usual. Huh, Irvine thought to himself, glancing at his watch, that was two hours early. Ah, well, he thought, he'd just finish this bit and then turn in, what could the worst be that would happen to one of the base's most promising zoid pilots, and so he continued working, even in the darkened hangar.

Once finished, he left the hangar surreptitiously, remaining in the shadows on his way back to his billet. However, who should be blocking his path but the Captain and three civilians that he didn't recognise- he stayed where he was, trying to merge further back into the shadows so as not to be noticed.

Then, he heard what the captain and his guests were talking about...

"The first shipment of replacement zoids should be arriving here tomorrow," the Captain told the three men, "if you ambush the shipment and hand me the money for them, you can have the zoids on board, as per our usual arrangement."

Irvine stiffened with rage, the captain, an accomplished zoid pilot, was planning to sell the base's latest shipment of new training zoids to some group of bandits. Irvine knew what he had to do, and it was not going to be trying to kill the captain and his contacts now with his bare hands. Silently he waited as the four of them walked on, then returned to the zoid hangar, where he spent the rest of the night in hiding.

The next morning, at dawn, he awoke, and began the work that he had set himself for the day, that of bringing down the Captain who had decided to sell out his own facility for the chance at a quick bit of money. He looked at the zoids that occupied the hangar, weighing up which would be best to use in this battle- quickly he decided against using the Gunsniper, Godos or Guysack- probably the Gorhecks wasn't a good idea given how few weapons they were outfitted with (out of those they would normally be equipped with), then, in the corner of the hangar he saw the Captain's personal zoid, a standard model Command Wolf which had been upgraded by the addition of a few smoke dischargers. This zoid, with the captain's insistence that it be fully supplied with live ammunition, would probably be the best chance he had against anything the bandits used against the convoy, and thus, his decision made, he sprang up the front leg of the zoid, easing his body into its cockpit just as the captain entered the hangar.

"Hey, get out of my zoid now, cadet," the captain growled, his voice thick with irritation.

"I think not, traitor," Irvine spat in reply, "yes, sir I know all about your deal with bandits to sell the replacement zoids that we're supposed to be receiving."

"Guards," the Captain sputtered, "arrest that man immediately, he must be delusional!"

"Just try it," Irvine replied, his voice laden with anticipation as he lowered the cockpit canopy of the Command Wolf, activating both the Wolf and its weapons systems, which he brought to bear on the captain, "one false move and the captain gets a shot from his own Command Wolf straight through the head!"

The guards froze, not trusting Irvine's accusations and wanting to protect the life of their commander rather than have an unsightly reprimand on their records...Apart from one guard who had slipped behind the Command Wolf, who carefully crept forwards, being careful and quiet, even as he began to climb the footholds in the front leg of the Command Wolf, until he suddenly sprang forward to land on the head of the Wolf, at which point Irvine's reflexes, already fast, kicked in, and he jammed his finger down on the trigger, placing a shot through the neck of the Captain, turning away at the sight of the blood that shot from the wound.

Then, shaking the guard off the head of what was now his Command Wolf, he sprang from the hangar, taking it in easy steps at first as he adjusted to the weighting and balance of a real Command Wolf, where the training model had possessed little more than stripped down weapons and no ammunition to weigh it down.

But, as the security squads of the base mobilised the Gorhecks and Godos units that provided the majority of their firepower, he accelerated into a run, confident that he must save the shipment at the very least if he was to keep his reputation.

Running as fast as his Command Wolf would allow, Irvine hunted high and low for the supply convoy that he had vowed to protect at all costs, finally finding it, already under attack by the bandits, in the middle of a rocky chasm, the three Gorhecks' and one Aro Saurer that remained of its escort struggling against the unmarked Guysacks, Molgas and Rev Raptors that had waylaid them. With reckless abandon and a howl of enthusiasm that had not yet been diminished, Irvine charged his Command Wolf into the battle, firing wildly at a line of Guysacks which were attacking the Aro Saurer at close range- most of them fell under the onslaught, but Irvine tried to focus on the battle in hand, turning his twin 50mm cannons on Molga, Rev Raptor and Guysack alike as the battle raged around him, until finally none of the zoids he had seen remained, and the twin unmarked Gordos' of the bandit chief and his Lieutenant appeared, firing barrages from their heavy cannons as they advanced on the six Gustavs that made up the convoy, all of which were unarmed and laden with zoids and spare parts to the point that they did not possess the speed to escape from even such a slow zoid as the Gordos. Seizing the advantage, Irvine charged forward along the side of the chasm, his zoid tilted through 45 degrees onto its side as he ran, only his momentum keeping his zoid upright, and then, finally, he span, turning his guns on the back-mounted spines of the Gordos' as he slammed his finger almost through the trigger of the Command Wolf, watching as the back plating of the first Gordos was torn apart under his guns. Now, having disabled the sensors of both Gordos' he kept moving, refusing to allow the heavy weapons of the Gordos the chance of a solid target lock as he darted back and forth, round and round, occasionally letting loose a salvo of shots as he brought his weapons to bear- However, now that the vulnerable sensor spines of the Gordos' had gone, his guns met with thicker plates of armour that were barely dented by the weak gunnery of his Command Wolf, however, as the two zoids, having finished off all but one Gorhecks of the convoy's escort, now turned, facing inwards at the Wolf that continued to plague them- what a rookie mistake, Irvine thought, stopping his zoid directly between them. The two Gordos' brought their cannons to bear, wanting not so much to immobilise the Command Wolf as to reduce it to scrap metal, but as they fired, Irvine and the Command Wolf sprang from between the two, allowing their shots to hit one another, destroying both Gordos', although it appeared that both zoids had functional ejector seats, so he would see their pilots again sometime, maybe.

For now, he concentrated on escorting the convoy to the base, conversing with the Gorhecks pilot who was the last man standing of the original escort.

Suddenly, the Gorhecks pilot, who had been listening to updates on the Republic's secure update frequency said, "dude, I think you'd better make yourself scarce and lie low for a while, regional headquarters has just issued a bulletin telling everyone to watch out for a rogue army cadet in a Command Wolf, presumed dangerous- killed a base commander- if that's you, dude, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now because you saved my life back there, but you'd better disappear, and fast, according to my map the base is just around this corner."

And with that, Irvine turned his Command Wolf and ran the other way, conscious that although he had become a zoid pilot, his chance of a career in the republican army had just gone up in flames.

Okay, this is Mercenary Pen here, I thought it was about time that someone tried to account for Irvine's past before he met up with Van Flyheit- and so that's exactly what I'm trying to do- as usual, your input would be most welcome, so Read and Review folks.

MP signing off.


	2. The Life of an outlaw

Chapter2: The Life of an Outlaw.

Two weeks later, Irvine was still on the run, his Command Wolf running low on ammunition, for he had been forced to defend himself against the Republican patrols that were combing the countryside for him. His zoid was limping, one of its front legs having been damaged by the bomb dropped by a Pteras that had found him. He consulted his map, there was a city only a few miles away, but it would probably have army zoids outside the gates, no one of the villages near to this city would probably be a far better bet, and so, turning west, he headed for a nearby village, hoping that the villagers either had not heard the news or did not recognise him, but perhaps that was too much to hope for.

He raised a hunk of bread to his mouth, biting on the food he had claimed from the wreck of an enemy patrol zoid (once he had disposed of its former occupant of course). Finally, an hour later, not long before the sun set, he limped into a village, setting down his Command Wolf on the outskirts before going to look for at least a night's lodging. He started by entering the local pub, quietly asking the barman where he might find cheap lodging with no questions asked- he was directed over to a corner table, where an affluent old man sat with a smartly-dressed young gentleman who appeared to be some sort of manservant, both of whom were sipping glasses of what appeared to be plain fruit juice, although the barman had told him they'd asked for a little something stronger to be added to it, discreetly mind.

He approached the old man, hesitating at first as he inquired, "I was told you might possibly have a room where I could spend the night."

The old man replied, "What, what, oh yes, a room for the night, well I'm sure we could put a young man such as yourself up for the night. Tell me, boy, what's your name?"

"Irvine, sir," he replied, uneasy because although he had been told that this man would ask the fewest questions of anyone around, he was asking a few questions too many for Irvine's liking.

"And tell me Irvine," the old man continued, "might you perhaps be a zoid pilot?"

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before he did so, for this was the sort of information that could lead to him getting arrested.

"Let me tell you a story," the old man continued, "five years ago, I was an explorer, trekking through the jungle at the helm of my Iguan- yes, that's right my boy, I used to be an Guylosian citizen- and on this mission, Irvine, myself and seven others discovered a lost temple deep in the jungle. Inside the temple, a relic of the ancient zoidian race, we thought, there stood a stone tablet, covered in ancient carvings and ancient writing- now this was the most intricately carved stone tablet I have ever seen, it's a pity you've seen nothing of the like- but anyway, we managed to get it out of the temple, and on to the back of the Expedition's Gustav, when one of our number, a man named Friedrich Schneider, turned a gun on us, claiming the tablet and the top zoid of the Expedition, a Heavily armed Red Horn, taking the tablet with him as his very own. Now some of us tried to follow him, to reclaim the tablet so that we could put it into a museum, but we never saw them again. What I'm doing at the moment, young Irvine, is recruiting a team of zoid pilots and other combat specialists to cross the border into the Guylos empire and try to reclaim the tablet, for the good of mankind, from Mister Schneider."

And so it was that Irvine was given both lodging and his first job since he went on the run, bringing his Command Wolf up to the mansion of his employer by means of the manservant's Gustav, where it was taken into the private zoid hangar of his employer to receive repairs, both to its leg and also to the worn out gyro-stabiliser unit in another leg, which would prove essential in keeping the zoid upright. His Command Wolf was surrounded by zoids of any description that you care to mention, with such machines as the Republican Barigator and Pteras offset by Guylosian zoids such as the Iguan that presumably belonged to his employer and a Red Horn.

He was then led to the northern wing of the house, which was housing the mercenaries and outlaws who had been hired for the job. He entered the main room of the northern wing's ground floor, an immaculate chamber that had been originally intended as a second ballroom, but now proved little more than a recreation room for the assorted bandits, who were either chatting, or off in some corner of the room, practising some skill or another, ranging from target shooting to knife throwing.

"Good afternoon," the manservant, who I had now learned was called Morden, said by way of greeting, "I would like t introduce you all to a new colleague of yours, who will also be participating in our little excursion, his name is Irvine, so if you would care to acquaint yourself with him, we would be most grateful."

And then, he was alone with a room full of mercenaries, freshly washed and well-dressed mercenaries but mercenaries nonetheless.

He made to try and find out who the others were indiscreetly, but that was foiled when one of the Mercenaries; a lean, yet reasonably well-muscled young man with fair skin and a scruffy shock of short, medium brown hair; took it upon himself to introduce everyone to Irvine.

"Hi," he began, "I'm Richard Matthews, although I'm known as the Fixer, these here are Rufus and Ezekiel Morgan," he said, pointing at two almost identical mercenaries, both in their early thirties, "you know, the Morgan brothers who robbed an entire supply convoy without help two years ago; and then we have Nathan Roche over here with the throwing knives, known as the black blade the other side of the mountains, and finally, we have our resident mermaid, Miranda Higgins, whose only claim to fame, insofar as we know, is that she's the only pilot outside the military to have made a reputation for herself with the Barigator."

And the conversations went on, with other Mercenaries being introduced to him, but none he would remember as much as those five Outlaws. Soon he could recognise the trademark belt-fed revolvers of the Morgan brothers, as well as Nathan's throwing knives (which were distinctive due to their golden pommels with the engraved initials NR), not to mention the Fixer's self designed diagnostic scanner and the boot-knives that Miranda wore as a matter of habit.

Indeed, their zoids were no less distinctive than their handheld equipment, and Irvine rapidly acquainted himself with Miranda's sand-coloured Barigator, the Black shield Liger of Rufus Morgan and the white Shield Liger of his brother Ezekiel, the Gorhecks of Nathan Roche, whose own sense of style had seen the his zoid painted in a combination of White, Silver and Jade; and finally the Antique Zaber Fang that Fixer had retrofitted for battle (having stolen it from an imperial collector when a little lean on money).

Within the space of days the six of them were firm friends, the fixer even installing the old 150mm rifle from his Zaber onto Irvine's Command Wolf when he replaced it with a pair of customised 120mm Beam Rifles, and although it did need a bit of messing around to fit the magazine for the monster cannon, not to mention cleaning the rifle itself and repainting it where the sand had almost scoured the supposedly "weatherproof" paint into non-existence. But this rifle would allow his Command Wolf to compete with the vast majority of tank-duty zoids, bringing the zoid out of the minor leagues and into a level of respectability previously unattained by the design.

Those days, Irvine thought, had gone by like a blur...

The next thing he recalled was nothing more than Nathan showing him the ropes with throwing knives. It was mid-afternoon, a time at which the assembled throng of mercenaries and outlaws had become complacent, content to live in the lap of luxury under the protection of their host, who always seemed to be away sorting out some minor detail in their scheme.

Anyway, the way Irvine remembered it, Nathan had let him throw one of his spare knives to start with, to see what he already knew, and then moved in to give the lecture about where his technique was wrong.

"No, No, No," Nathan said, "if you're doing something like this you need the right mindset, the ability, if you will, to become the knife, to send it straight at your target within the space of a second, just ask any of the cutthroats, gunrunners, thieves and other lowlifes we have here, each one of them'll tell you the same thing, if you don't become your every action, you become dead in short order."

Another dozen such moments came to mind within the space of an instant, little things that had shaped the rest of his life, but all of them fading into nothingness now as time's relentless march captured detail after detail of his memories. It had been like that for the past year, ever since he had taken that glancing shot to the head on Guardian Force business, the one that had barely cracked the side of his skull and had forced him to accept desk job at Guardian Force headquarters, Red River Base...

And that's where I'll leave it for now, so stay tuned for the next chapter of Irvine's life, as it might have happened if I actually owned zoids, which, as you might be able to work out for yourselves, I don't.

Anyhow, Merc Pen signing off, Over and Out.


End file.
